


The name of the shadow

by WahlBuilder



Series: Doctor and Thief [2]
Category: Thief (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If only he could sleep or die for a moment, if only the City stopped crying into Alec’s ear, for just a second… But sleep had left him, he was so tired that he couldn’t sleep, so past that point where he would just crash down on the spot. His field of vision had narrowed but everything in it stayed overly sharp, like on a painting of a madman.<br/>A soft tap on wood made him jerk his head and look at the entrance.<br/>There was a shadow there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The name of the shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [The Name of the Shadow - Доктор и Вор. История вторая. Имя тени](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389247) by [Altra_Realta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altra_Realta/pseuds/Altra_Realta), [Natty_M](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natty_M/pseuds/Natty_M)



The City never slept. He raged and cried, hammering his thousand voices into Alec’s head until he became dizzy with it, until he became sick of it.

It was bad times, with screams of anger and fear and hatred and distant thunder of blasts.

Alec didn’t care. The City became a _he_ , for Alec saw his eyes and black hands and dark shadows, but those past days had been the worst, and the City never shut up and was never silent. Days and nights blurred into Alec’s mind until he couldn’t tell light from dark, blood from wine.

The door of his house stayed open, for the City had been reaping new souls, and new faces were pleading at Alec’s door, words about his pale hands spreading like fire across the streets. Those were people not touched by the Gloom, he had left poor souls for those like Orion, those who could do something or thought that they could. Alec couldn’t, but his hands were pale and at least he could treat knife wounds and mace wounds and arrow wounds and bolt wounds and glass wounds and—

He came to when he spilt a scorching fluid on himself. He had run out of antiseptics long ago. Out of all of them. Any of them.

He cursed under his breath and grabbed a cloth to wipe the liquid off. With bleary eyes he looked around. He was in his small living room. Bloodied clothes were scattered across the floor and on two benches. Alec was sure that the smell could knock anybody off their feet. He couldn’t smell anything, though. Maybe he had lost one of his senses at last.

At that moment he noticed with a quirk of amusement that his legs were trembling, barely holding him up. He sunk into an armchair. He was all alone and could at least stop pretending that he had any energy left.

The blasts were howling somewhere in the distance, savage beasts of crime and murder.

He wiped his hands clean and contemplated on drinking the scorching liquid but then decided against it. He contemplated closing his door and locking it shut, but decided against it, too. If yet another wave was to come and crash on his threshold, he would not close his door. He couldn’t. His hands were pale and at least they weren’t trembling. For now.

If only he could sleep or die for a moment, if only the City stopped crying into Alec’s ear, for just a second… But sleep had left him, he was so tired that he couldn’t sleep, so past that point where he would just crash down on the spot. His field of vision had narrowed but everything in it stayed overly sharp, like on a painting of a madman.

A soft tap on wood made him jerk his head and look at the entrance.

There was a shadow there.

 _The City_ was there.

He jumped to his feet and said, ‘Don’t stay, come in.’ His own voice was barely a whisper.

The shadow hesitated for a moment, then did as he was told, closing the door behind himself with slender fingers of the right hand, carefully keeping his left hand away from Alec’s gaze.

Alec frowned, feeling a headache forming behind his eyeballs, crossed his hands on the chest. ‘Show me,’ he demanded, trying to steady his voice.

The shadow—Master-Thief, a _legend_ , yes, Alec had heard whispers in the dark—slowly moved his left hand under the light of a lamp. The light swayed a little, indicating new blasts that had been tearing the City apart.

His left palm was hastily wrapped in a cloth that had been white some time ago, but now was dirty with blood. Alec tried to peel off the cloth but blood glued it to the skin. Alec searched through a cabinet near himself and found a pair of scissors. He cut the fabric off carefully, revealing a wound. It was not dirty, it had been rinsed properly, actually; but something prevented the wound from closing and made the edges of it go black and crusty.

‘What happened?’ asked Alec, careful not to raise his head and look into the eyes of the City— No, the eyes of a _man_ , though it was a man with black hands. And these narrow hands were hot and pale, with blackened nails and fingertips filed down, clever, Alec thought, to do this and prevent his hands from leaving fingerprints. Clever.

‘I was shot. With a crossbow,’ said low, slightly nasal voice, and Alec was suddenly very aware of this _man_ before him. Because he had never heard his voice before.

He heard the City, the screams and cries and pleas, but never, never the voice. It was a voice of a man, a human voice, and a human hand in his own hands, with a wound and heat.

‘That I see,’ he answered, his mouth dry. ‘You rinsed it?’

‘Yeah, but I don’t know, maybe the bolt was poisoned, it won’t heal.’

Alec lifted his gaze.

The pale face, a shadow of stubble, weird scars, strange eyes, the lower half of the face open. It was all so vulnerable, Alec saw this face on banners, a face that the guards had been searching for, a dangerous man. But also a wounded man, and deep shadows under his eyes were not only of handmade origin. Alec had seen this face up close, too, in a moment of fragility. This man had slept on Alec’s bed.

Alec touched the man’s forehead with the back of his left hand.

‘You’re hot,’ said Alec.

‘Uh, thanks,’ replied the man, his mouth quirking at the corner.

‘No,’ sputtered Alec, suddenly hysterically cheerful, ‘I mean, you have a fever. There definitely was something on the bolt. Wait a moment.’ He dropped the narrow hand abruptly and staggered to his cabinets, searching through them.

His many bottles and boxes and jars were empty. All empty.

He froze. He crashed a fist on the counter, swiped a few bottles. One of them shattered with a high, thin noise, others rolled on the floor with a thick, glassy sound.

Alec ran a hand over his face and into his hair, tugged at few locks. His fingers were twitching.

A palm hovered over his shoulder, not quite touching him, and he suppressed the urge to lean into it, to make contact. He couldn’t remember when was the last time somebody touched him without violent intent or pleas.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked a soft voice.

‘Nothing, it’s just…’ Alec trailed off. He owed the man an explanation, at least. His own actions were weird. He was falling apart. ‘I have nothing to give. All my medicines have run out. No mixtures, no oils, no ointments, nothing…’

Alec wanted the man to leave him alone. He wanted to lock the door and crawl onto his bed and sleep for eternity.

He chuckled humourlessly. ‘I think I have money, you can go to one of the fancy doctors—’ he made a move to the stairs, to run, to hide, but a hand stopped him, touching his forearm.

The City’s eyes bored into Alec.

‘It’s alright, you’ve already done a lot to me. I won’t bother you, then, and find another doctor,’ the shadow said, and Alec saw immediately that the man wasn’t planning on going anywhere. There wasn’t going to be another doctor.

He was going to go away, just like that.

Alec went to the kitchen and got a kettle. There was still a bit of warm water in it. He took a bowl, several pieces of cloth, and a bandage and returned to the man, who wa watching him with a cautious expression. Alec put down the bowl and filled it with water. He dipped the cloth in the water, then squeezed it, leaving it barely wet. Without a word he took the man’s wounded hand and started gently wiping dried blood, careful to avoid the wound itself. After that he dried the palm and put on a bandage.

‘Rinse away any dirt and change bandage frequently,’ said Alec, keeping his voice even and avoiding eye contact. ‘Your fever is light, for now, but if it gets worse,’ he fished a piece of paper out of his pockets, searched for a quill and ink, then scribbled a prescription, ‘buy this and drink a tablespoon, but only if you feel dizzy. If the wound gets itchy or won’t heal in a few days, get back to me, I’ll see what I can do.’

He at last met the strange eyes. And a lopsided smirk. It was… charming, he had to admit.

‘Thank you,’ said the man, his gaze unsettling.

‘Go to Leand, the apothecary. Tell him, Alec sent you, he will understand,’ he added.

‘Alec, then?’ smirked the black-handed man. ‘Thank you, Alec,’ said the shadow after a moment of silence, scratching his chin. ‘I should… I should get going.’

Alec ducked his head, hiding a smile. ‘Don’t forget about the wound,’ he added.

‘If you need something, anything, go to The Crippled Burrick in the Stonemarket, ask Basso, he runs things there. He’ll help,’ sounded a voice from the shadows near the door. ‘Tell him, Garrett sent you,’ the voice added, with a mirth, and vanished into the night.

Alec lifted his gaze to find the house empty.

Another blast roared like a hungry beast.

‘Garrett, then,’ Alec murmured to himself and smiled. ‘Well, nice to meet you, Garrett.’

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for my friend [pineapplento](http://pineapplento.tumblr.com/). Thank you for existing! I love you and feel so proud that you're my friend. I've been very lucky to meet you =)


End file.
